They were probably having too much fun reciting the details of their jumps to each other to notice her. Maybe she could slink into the classroom, return the jumpsuit, and slip out without notice.
“Let’s just sit here awhile.” Mitch closed his eyes and leaned back. “Let me catch my breath. Nothing wears a man out faster than battling a hysterical woman.” He peeked at her with one eye. “Even if she’s pretty.”
“I don’t know whether to thank you or smack you.” Though hysterical described her perfectly. She leaned back too, her shoulder rubbing against his. “Thank you.”
Before long, Chad poked his head into the cabin. “Figured I’d find y’all in here. C’mon. I need to close up shop. Everyone’s gone but you two.”
Mitch gave her a hand up. “I’ll help you get out of your gear if you’ll drive me back to town.”
“How’d you get here?”
“With Chad. But I’d rather leave with you.”
She shot out a breath and tried to smile. “I guess that’s the least I can do, since you’ve been so nice and all.”
“Heroic. That’s the word you’re looking for.” He grinned, broad and toothy. “Admit it. I’m your hero.”
She gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you’re my hero. Let’s get out of here.”
AS THEY HEADED BACK into San Antonio, JoJo began to relax — at least from her failed attempt at jumping. The crazy traffic brought its own tension. But the GPS gave her a sense of confidence and being on the ground gave her a sense of relief.
Mitch had sprawled comfortably in his seat, one arm along the side window and the other stretched to the back of her headrest. With eyes the color of the sky they’d just flown in, the man was definitely handsome. But more important, he seemed to have a compassion about him she appreciated. No doubt in her mind he hadn’t needed that rest from wrestling with her near as much as she’d needed it from being hysterical. In fact, everything he’d done since she met him smacked of understanding and empathy. The man seemed downright perfect, though he was bound to have some flaws. Everyone did. But still, he’d be a great catch if he didn’t live so far away — and if she was actually looking for a great catch. Who had the time?
She made a turn, and traffic intensified.
“Where we headed?” Mitch asked.
“El Mercado. I’m taking you up on your offer last night to join me.” She flashed him a smile. “I assume your meeting is over?”
“Yeah, and it left me famished. Let’s eat first.”
They agreed on Mi Tierra, a loud, bustling restaurant decked out with colored, twinkling lights and vibrant decorations. Every inch a tourist trap, but the food was remarkable, even if the noisy atmosphere didn’t allow for intimate conversation. They stopped by the bakery for dessert, then headed toward the market. JoJo unwrapped the tissue from her cocada and bit into the sweet coconut candy as they walked.
Mitch elbowed her lightly and pointed to a pottery display. “Looks like something you’d like.”
A ceramic colt sat on the shelf — dark blue head, olive green ears, rust-colored mane, red legs, and vivid blue flowers on his sides. Traditional Mexican art, beautifully crafted. And it stole her heart away.
“Oh, you’re right. I love it.”
But one look at the price tag had her backing away from the store.
“Sorry,” Mitch said. “I didn’t realize it would be so high.”
The price wasn’t that high, really, just more than she could afford, what with the room she’d splurged on and the jumping lessons she’d blown good, hard-earned money on. Between the rent on her farmhouse and her college loans, she couldn’t afford impulse buying.
The next store featured sombreros and serapes. Mitch grabbed a bright red sombrero with an ornate golden design and plopped it on.
He lifted both arms to the right side of his head, snapped his fingers, and shouted, “¡Olé!”
“That looks great on you.” Actually, it made his head look small and hid his handsome features in shadows. She couldn’t help giggling.
He danced to the background music, a clumsy salsa to the Latin beat pulsating through the store. She found a dark green sombrero sporting a design in gold and white, then mimicked his movements, throwing in a few of her own.
How crazy to be dancing in the middle of the store like this, but she couldn’t help it and refused to be embarrassed. She hadn’t felt this carefree in ages.
He found a serape with colors that matched both her green sombrero and his red one, and draped it around her shoulders. “Perfect.”
He held her in his gaze, his laughter reflected in his eyes. Then something else shadowed those beautiful blues. Something she recognized. She caught her breath as he gently lifted the hat from her head. Her focus shifted to his lips as they came closer to her own. Her senses buzzed, her heart raced — how long had it been since she’d been kissed?
But she’d known Mitch all of two days.
She laid a hand on his chest. “People are staring.”
“Let them,” he whispered, coming closer still.
She turned her head. “Mitch … Not yet. Not now.”
He kissed her temple, caressed her cheek. “I won’t apologize for wanting to.”
“You don’t have to.” She slipped the serape from her shoulders. “I’d better put this up.”
He put the sombreros away. “I’m thirsty. You thirsty?”
“Parched.” Her mouth had dried the moment she realized he intended to kiss her. “I could go for a lemonade.”
They wandered the plaza until they found a quaint snack bar housed in a turquoise-colored stucco building. She ordered her lemonade, and he ordered a soda and a side of nachos. They took their treats to a table near the window.
“I’ve been curious about something.” She used her straw to stir her drink and glanced at him from under her lashes. “You seem to understand the fear of flying.”
“Well, I should. I was worse than you are.”
“Really? How did you get over it?”
He pulled a nacho chip from the cheese and plopped an extra jalapeño on it. “I joined the Air Force.”
She choked on a sip and covered her mouth to cough. “You’re joking. That seems a bit counterintuitive, doesn’t it?”
“It worked. Faced my fear head on in an environment where you don’t admit you have any fears. Started out right here, at Lackland Air Force Base. Loved San Antonio, which is why I came back to live.”
“Did you have to fly often?”
“Chose to.” He wiped his fingers on a napkin. “Once I got over the fear, I became a pilot. Nothing glamorous, just an airbus. I hauled people and cargo wherever they told me to go, then I got out. Finished college, got my engineering degree — and there ya go. My life’s history.”
“Sounds interesting.”
“Sounds very much like the same thing I told you on the plane. It’s your turn now. Tell me about yourself.”
She shrugged. “Not much to tell. I live in a rented farmhouse outside of Hereford, and I tend sick animals for a living. That’s pretty much it.”
“Why’d you become a vet?”
“I’ve always loved animals. They’re fun and funny and often far more deserving of my care and attention than people.”
“Ouch.” He popped another nacho in his mouth. “That’s not a very optimistic view of the human race.”
“Well, what can I say?” She sipped her lemonade.
“So why did the vet decide to jump from a plane?”
She released a sigh. “It was silly, really. My friends and I are all turning thirty this year, and they wanted to do something truly daring. Years ago, we’d made up bucket lists — or they did. I never took it seriously. Our birthday dare is to actually do the biggest thing on the list. Annie is going to crash a Hollywood wedding, Arabel is heading to Scotland, and Kat … well, Kat lost her leg in Afghanistan, which killed her dream of being a mountain climber. But she decided she would try
it anyway.”
“What about you?”
“I couldn’t think of anything when they pressed me on it this past spring, so I blurted the first thing to pop in my head.”
“Skydiving.”
She sighed again and nodded. “Skydiving. Is that not insane?”
“It is if you’re afraid to fly.”
“I didn’t know I’d respond that way yesterday until they closed the hatch.”
His brows drew together, and he leaned forward with his forearms on the table. “What if I could get you over your fear of flying?”
“I’m not sure that’s possible. You saw me up there. I was a lunatic.”
“Not a lunatic, just scared. How long will you be in San Antonio?”
“After what happened today, I should go home tomorrow, but the room is booked until Friday.”
“That’s plenty of time. I’ll pick you up in the morning. Where are you staying?”
She gave the hotel name, then tilted her head. “What are you going to do?”
He rubbed his hands together and effected the look of a silent-movie villain. “You’ll see.”
“I don’t like surprises,” or anything else she couldn’t control.
“You’ll like this one.”
Chapter 6
He had given her no clue what they’d be doing today, so if her red tunic belted over skinny jeans didn’t appeal to him as he scoped her from head to foot, it was his own fault. She crossed the hotel lobby and stood in front of him.
“Well? Do I meet your approval?”
“Sensible shoes.” His eyes held a glint of appreciation, defying his pragmatic tone. “That’s good. And no purse. That’s good too.”
She flicked her belt over at her waist to show the zippered pocket on the underside. “Just the necessities.”
“Girl after my heart.” He waved toward the entrance. “Ready?”
She walked ahead of him and through the doors. A denim-blue Audi TT-RS, polished to a high gleam, sat in the circle drive. She’d seen it only in commercials. It had class, sass, and one powerful engine. Back in college, when she wasn’t daydreaming about a four-door, full-bed pickup, she’d dreamed about this baby.
And Mitch just opened the passenger door for her. What a man.
She climbed in and smoothed her hand against the tan leather. No ranch grit here. No smell of hay and manure. No blood or medicine stains. Pure luxury.
He settled behind the wheel and waved toward a couple of tall, paper cups in the holders. “Did you have your coffee this morning?”
“Yes, but I’m always game for another.” She opened the drink spout and sniffed. “What is it?”
“It’s a blonde roast. A little milk, a little sugar, some hazelnut.” He shrugged. “I figured if you hadn’t already tried it, you may like it.”
She tasted and licked her lip. “I do.”
“Good.” He fired up the engine. “Top up or down?”
“Down. Great car.”
“Yeah, she’s a little old, but I can’t part with her.”
He merged into traffic, and soon jetted down the on-ramp to I-37 and slid with ease onto southbound lane.
“Where are we going?”
He leaned toward her. “What?”
She raised her voice over the wind. “Where are we going?”
“Oh.” He shifted lanes and sped up. “I thought we’d go on a tour of the Catholic churches in town. Do you like history?”
“Yeah, but what about getting me over my phobia?”
“We’ll get to it.”
They’d hit the highway late enough in the morning that whoever needed to get to work had long ago arrived at their destinations. Other than a few eighteen wheelers, service vehicles, and the odd passenger car, the interstate seemed fairly clear. Mitch darted around a poky U-Haul and cranked up the speed.
“We in a hurry?”
“Nope.”
She peeked at the speedometer. Eighty and climbing. Excitement bubbled up from her toes and released on a giggle. “Let her roll!”
She’d always wanted to see what this baby could do. The road ahead was clear for quite a way, and the wind through her hair felt great. She tilted her face toward the sun and reveled in the car’s speed and power. She rarely cranked her old work truck over sixty — couldn’t afford the wear and tear that the state’s speed limit of seventy-five threatened. But riding in the Audi was every bit as good as racing full-gallop across an open pasture.
Far too soon, they slowed for the exit, and the thrill tapered off. By the time they entered city traffic, she felt they were crawling along at ten miles per hour. Forty felt syrupy slow.
Finally, they turned to the manicured grounds of an ancient, stone mission. Old buildings held new purposes — a visitor’s center, a public restroom. But the mission and its trio of bells stood majestically silhouetted against a cobalt sky.
“It’s beautiful.”
“San Juan Capistrano, the Texas version. Spanish Franciscans built it around 1731. Back in 2000, a bunch of idiots stole some artifacts from the sanctuary. Priceless statues carved from wood back in the Spanish Colonial period. They ought to be horsewhipped.”
They followed the modern sidewalk through antiquity, stopping for a moment at Tierra Sagrada, “Sacred Earth,” an unfinished church from 1780.
“This is where a lot of the folks from that day are buried,” Mitch said. “Want to go into the old mission?”
“Of course.”
The temperature dropped considerably inside the stone structure, and the silence seemed almost holy. Their footfalls on the worn brick floors made virtually no sound, but even the gentle pad of their steps felt sacrilegious, intrusive. Wooden pews sat in two rows on either side, and hewn beams held up the ceiling. The statuary near the altar was beautiful in its simplicity. What a contrast to the outside world.
After a few moments, he gestured her back outside. “You’ve got to see this.”
Standing as close as possible to the building, he pointed up to the iconic bell tower, with its three bells, each hanging under its own stone arch. She tilted her head far back and studied them from this angle—what she could see of them.
“Wouldn’t it be easier to see them from over there?” She glanced around and found him studying her as if she were some laboratory specimen. “Something wrong?”
He shook his head. “Ready to go?”
She shrugged off the feeling that he was examining her and followed him.
They didn’t drive far to their next stop, the walled Mission San Jose, an incredible specimen of 18th Century Spanish architecture, although repaired and renovated over the years. The arched walkways, the domed roof over the cathedral, the rose window. Sculptures of the saints adorned the front of the mission.
So ornate. So beautiful.
Mitch nudged her. “Want to go up in the bell tower?”
Of course she did. “Can we?”
He put a finger to his lips, then whispered, “C’mon.”
They climbed the age-worn, wooden stairs to the belfry and made their way to a spectacular view of the grounds with its surrounding stone buildings and gnarled trees.
Mitch stepped close to one of the arched openings and pointed at the low structures bordering the mission complex. “Those used to house the Native Americans who lived and worked on the mission. It’s amazing how many came to Christ during the era all these churches were — Oops.”
She faced him. “What’s wrong?”
He pointed toward the ground directly beneath them. “See that?”
She glanced down. “What?”
“I dropped a quarter. Do you see it?”
Laughing, she leaned over farther and searched the grass and shrubs below. “Don’t see it. I hope that doesn’t break you. It’s a goner.”
“I needed it to help pay for lunch.” He grinned and a spark of mischief brightened his gorgeous blue eyes.
A good-looking history buff-slash-engineer-slash-skydiver wi
th a great personality. And he was spending the day with her. Maybe Annie was right. She needed to readjust her happiness scale.
He led her down to the ground floor and outside the mission. “I have one more place to take you, then I have meetings for the rest of the afternoon. But let’s eat first. You about ready for lunch?”
“Sure. Where are we going?”
“I’m hungry for a burger. What about you?”
“You know what I mean.” She shoulder-nudged him as they walked to the car.
He laughed and pretended to trip sideways.
“A burger’s fine,” she said, “but where are we going after?”
“You’ll see.”
After several minutes of darting through traffic and sitting at red lights, she finally realized where they were headed. At least, she hoped they were going there — the Tower of the Americas. The Texas version of the Space Needle. It had been on her list of things to see while in the city, and now, not only would she get to see it, she would be with someone whose company she had learned to enjoy.
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He chatted away about the area’s history and the missions they’d missed seeing, but the wind blew most of his words away. He looked casual in pressed khakis and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Aviator glasses kept the sun from his eyes, and the wind sifted through hair that probably would have curled if allowed to grow longer. He kept his left hand on the wheel and the right resting on his thigh. What would happen if she picked that hand up and traced the veins …
What a ridiculous thought. She’d just met him.
He found the nearest parking spot and nodded toward the tower. “What do you think? Are you game?”
“Absolutely!” She climbed from the car before he had a chance to cut the engine.
“Hang on,” he called. “I’m coming.”
They crossed under the arched Tower of Americas sign and over the paving bricks toward a cute little glassed-in café with outdoor seating—perfect for a day like today.
“Is this where we’re having lunch?”
Skydiving to Love Page 3